Waiting To Sail Your Worries Away
by Bellarsam Chrisjulittle
Summary: One-shot. Four weeks after their beloved daughter, Alethea, is born, the time comes for Sherlock to take a case again. It doesn't help that it will take him away from home for a few days. How will he find the strength to leave his girls? Molly has the answer: With the promise that he will come home to them. Pure and sweet parentlock fluff. Enjoy and leave a kind word!


Molly Holmes sat curled up in her husband's chair, the book on her lap open but completely forgotten. She was instead staring at her husband and their daughter, Alethea. At four weeks old, she was still quite a tiny thing, and she was currently resting on her father's chest fast asleep. Sherlock, too, had his eyes closed, but Molly could tell that he wasn't sleeping. His thumbs were moving rhythmically back and forth over their baby's back. The atmosphere in the room was quiet, warm and perfect.

Until the sound of the doorbell below rudely brought it to an end.

Sherlock's eyes immediately popped open in furious alert. The baby he held stirred in her sleep, beginning to wake up slowly with a whimper. Molly got up from Sherlock's chair and walked to the window, hoping to get a glimpse of the arrival. Looking down at the street, she said softly, "It's Greg's squad car."

"Who?" Sherlock spoke very softly, conscious of the baby on his chest.

Rolling her eyes, Molly said, " _Lestrade._ "

"Ah…oh." Sherlock's expression changed from recognition to somberness in a second. His eyes went to the baby, whose big brown eyes were blinking open as her little fingers flexed.

Molly walked to the sofa and, smiling, reached out for their daughter. "I'll take her, since she's woken up, and he's no doubt here to see you."

Sherlock's mouth twisted into an ugly shape, but he merely kissed Alethea's head before helping to transfer her to Molly. The baby gave a little startled coo upon being awakened and moved, but quieted as soon as she was fully in her mother's arms. Then the expected knock sounded at their door, and Molly called softly, "Come in, it's open," as she walked towards it.

The door opened, and sure enough it was Greg Lestrade. His expression immediately lit up at the sight of Molly holding baby Alethea. "Well, hello!" he exclaimed, but kept his voice relatively low for the baby's sake.

"Perfect timing, Greg," said Molly, waving Alethea's little arm at Lestrade. "She's just finished a nap."

"Thanks to your timing with the doorbell," Sherlock muttered to himself grumpily as he sat up himself. Molly heard it but Greg didn't seem to catch it, his attention focused on the baby.

"And did you have a good sleep?" asked Greg, holding out his finger for the baby to take. Alethea did, making an adorable sound that only a baby can make as she did. He and Molly laughed; even Sherlock's lips quirked up at the sound.

"Well, someone needs a nappy change now," said Molly. "It's good to see you, Greg."

"Likewise, Molly," said Greg. He then bent down and gave Alethea's rosy cheek a kiss. The baby cooed again at the sensation and Greg laughed again. "You get prettier every time I see you, sweetheart."

Smiling, Molly walked away with Alethea through the sitting room and up the stairs to the nursery. Once they were in the yellow room (she and Sherlock had painted it just a few days after getting the positive results of her pregnancy test), Molly spoke softly to her daughter as she laid her on the changing table.

"Well, we all knew that this day would come eventually, Lithi," said the new mother with a sigh. As she unbuttoned Alethea's onesie, she continued: "Your father is the world's only consulting detective, and as such, he must take cases that take him away from home from time to time." She caressed her daughter's head, fluffing the wispy black hair that covered it. "And we will miss him, quite a lot. But remember, my little love, that he always comes home to us."

She leaned down and gave her baby girl an eskimo kiss. She laughed when her daughter cooed in response. Leaning back up, Molly said, "Now let's get this nappy changed in record time. Can you keep squirming to a minimum for me, little one?"

Thankfully, Alethea got the message – for the most part. She did start squirming as Molly tried to put the fresh nappy on her, but it was nothing that Molly couldn't handle. In fact, it made her smile. In so many ways, even being as young and tiny as she was, Alethea was truly her father's daughter. He too had a restless nature and lots of energy, as her squirming showed.

"All done!" said Molly, after she had finished her task with a smile. "Now, doesn't that feel much better?"

From the corner of her eye, Molly saw a figure appear in the doorway as she buttoned up Alethea's onesie. Looking up, she saw her husband, who was looking at their daughter looking truly conflicted.

With a small smile of understanding, Molly held out her hand to him. "Where?" she asked.

Sherlock sighed, eternally grateful for how much his wife truly saw him. He took her hand and walked to her side. "Wales, somewhere near Cardiff. Local force is having trouble finding a serial who is leaving –" He stopped talking abruptly as he looked down at his four-week-old daughter, still lying on the changing table with eyes as innocent as a baby fawn. "Well…they've requested help from Scotland Yard, so of course Scotland Yard has come to me." His look said, _I'll give you the details later when she can't hear us._

Molly rolled her eyes, but internally she was wincing at how far away the crime was. He certainly wouldn't be home tonight, possibly not for a few nights. They hadn't spent a night apart since Alethea had been born. She knew that it was inevitable, as inevitable as Sherlock taking up cases again eventually. Even so, she would miss him dreadfully. And she knew that Alethea would miss him dreadfully too.

Looking down at their daughter, Molly smiled when she saw that Alethea's big brown eyes were focused on her daddy; as young and little as she was, Sherlock fascinated her and always grabbed her attention whenever he entered a room. _She most certainly got that from her mother,_ thought Molly, caressing Alethea's head again.

"You should take it," said Molly, turning her gaze back to her husband.

Surprise flashed across Sherlock's eyes for the briefest of moments before the conflict took over again as he looked between her and the baby. His gaze turned back to Molly when she cupped his cheek and turned his head.

"I know you want to, and that's perfectly ok, Sherlock," she said reassuringly. "You're a consulting detective, and it's a part of who you are. I am so happy that you've stayed home with us and that you haven't managed to drive yourself crazy."

"It wasn't difficult, Molly," said Sherlock, looking back down at Alethea. He held out his hand to her, and she immediately grabbed his index finger with a coo. Smiling down at her, he said, "She is the most fascinating experience of my life."

"Mine, too," said Molly, wrapping an arm around his waist and looking down at Alethea. "She is such a wonder, isn't she?"

The four-week-old infant gave a particularly loud and attention-demanding coo, looking between her mother and father, who both chuckled in reaction.

"The boss has spoken, and as usual, she is right," said Sherlock. He looked at Molly again, the conflict still raging in his eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked in a whisper so quiet that Molly almost didn't catch it. But she did catch it, and she nodded.

"Yes, Sherlock," she said firmly. "We'll be ok. Though I'm not a pediatrician, I'm still a doctor. You know that the security detail Mycroft has for us is second only to the royal family. Mrs. Hudson is right downstairs should I need help, and Mary is just a call away. She's been through all of this with Emma, so I'm ready for anything. Oh, is John going to come with you?"

Sherlock nodded. "I texted him to ask if he'd be available, and he said he would be if I agreed to take the case…" He looked back down at Alethea, who let out a softer coo upon meeting his gaze again. After a long moment, he looked back at Molly, the conflict in his eyes dying down. "If you're sure, Molly…"

"Yes, I am," said Molly, giving him a firm kiss. "Now, let Greg and John know, change your clothes, and get your go-bag together. We'll be down to see you off."

Sherlock gave a nod, said "good," and left the nursery.

Molly let out a deep breath and looked back down at Alethea, who had watched her father leave the room. Her face twisted in a pout, so before she could start fussing, Molly lifted her into her arms.

"Sorry, sweetheart, you'll have to make due with just me for a while," she murmured, kissing her daughter's head. "I know that he's a tough act to follow, but can you try?"

Alethea thankfully did _not_ start fussing, but snuggled into her mother's embrace – the safest place in the world.

Blinking back tears, Molly kissed her baby's rosy cheek. "I love you so much, my sweet girl."

* * *

A few minutes later, Sherlock walked out of his and Molly's bedroom, in one of his tailored suits and carrying his small go-bag that he always took on cases that took him out of London. He had texted John again, telling him to meet him and Lestrade at the station in half an hour. Lestrade was down in his squad car, waiting for him. And, just as she had promised, Molly was standing by the front door with Alethea cradled in her arms.

"I'll call every day, whenever I get the chance to," said Sherlock resolutely, walking towards them.

Molly smirked. "Well, that's certainly a nice change," she teased.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at that. When they had first started a romantic relationship, their first fight had been about the fact that Sherlock had not only taken off on a case in Edinburgh without telling her, but hadn't even texted her for the entire six days he had been away. Oh, he'd had to do some serious groveling and ravishing to get back into her good graces after that.

"Very funny, Dr. Holmes," he said, stopping in front of his girls.

Alethea was again gazing at him with a focus beyond her years. Sherlock thanked whatever deity out there that their daughter had inherited her mother's beautiful eyes. Molly would argue that statement, saying that her eyes were so common and boring compared to his sectoral heterochromatic pair. But there was nothing common or boring about Molly, especially those warm eyes that held all of the love in the universe. Her sweetness and joy showed him every day how much of her mother's daughter she was.

He bent his head down so that he could press a lingering kiss to the baby's brow. Locking eyes with her, he said softly, "I'll solve this case as quick as I can. Be good for your mother, my little bee." He kissed the tip of her tiny nose. "I love you."

Alethea cooed and waved her little arms. As a result, both of her tiny palms came into sharp contact (or as sharp as an infant can make) with both of his cheekbones.

The undignified snort that had escaped Molly's mouth caused Sherlock to straighten and look at her wryly. "She just had to inherit that from you, didn't she?" he said drily.

A grinning Molly merely said, "Oh, hush up. I only needed once to get it out of my system. You just be glad it was now rather than when she's a teenager."

They kissed tenderly, saying everything that they didn't need words to say. When they parted, Molly said, "We'll be here for you when you come home."

"And what a lovely thought that is," said Sherlock, and they shared a smile.

So, with one last stroke of both Molly's and Alethea's cheeks, Sherlock left and got into Lestrade's waiting car.

* * *

It took him four days, but Sherlock did indeed come home to his girls. The sun had set an hour ago, so darkness was falling fast. When the cab he had picked up at the train station stopped in front of 221B Baker Street, Sherlock paid the cabbie nearly double before rushing out and rushing inside. He flew up the stairs two and three at a time, but quieted once he reached the door to his family's flat. Alethea may very well be asleep or falling asleep by this time.

So, quietly as he could, Sherlock entered the flat and shut the door. After taking off his coat and shoes, Sherlock tiptoed towards his and Molly's bedroom. He knew that his girls would be in there. Though the nursery was all set up, the baby slept nights in the Moses basket set up in their bedroom; the parents had decided she would be moved up to the nursery once she was able to sleep through the night without waking up to be nursed.

Sure enough, as Sherlock got closer to the bedroom, he saw the soft light from Molly's bedside lamp pouring out from under the door. Sweeter still, he could hear Molly softly singing a lullaby:

" _A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain_

 _Softly blows over Lullaby Bay._

 _It fills the sails of boats that are waiting,_

 _Waiting to sail your worries away…"_

Sherlock smiled to himself. He hadn't realized how lovely of a singing voice Molly had until their daughter was born and he heard her sing a lullaby for the first time. He didn't know many of the songs that she chose to sing, having deleted such childhood things long ago, but discovering (or rediscovering) them had been an unexpectedly lovely aspect of parenthood. He, of course, had already composed several lullabies on his violin for his daughter, and she frequently fell asleep to them, too. But he wasn't sure if their beauty matched that of the pure love in his wife's lovely voice.

" _It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain,_

 _And your boat waits down by the Key._

 _The winds of night so softly are sighing._

 _Soon they will fly your troubles to sea…"_

Opening the door silently and slowly, Sherlock saw Molly standing by the Moses basket, their daughter cradled in her arms and wrapped in a swaddling blanket that her Nana Holmes had made for her. The picture this presented in the soft light – and in a bedroom he had once been convinced he would never share with anybody – made his eyes moisten and he blinked forcibly, so that this image wouldn't fog up.

Molly slowly bent down and very gently placed the sleeping baby in the basket as she continued to sing the lullaby.

" _So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain._

 _Wave goodbye to cares of the day,_

 _And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain_

 _Sail far away from Lullaby Bay…"_

Sherlock, unable to keep still anymore, opened the door fully and entered the bedroom. Molly looked up and grinned at the sight of her husband; he had texted her when the case was finished that he would be home that night so she was not taken by surprise. Sherlock returned her smile, and silently indicated for her to keep singing. She nodded and stepped to the side so that he too could stand by the basket where their daughter slept.

" _So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain._

 _Wave goodbye to cares of the day,_

 _And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain_

 _Sail far away from Lullaby Bay…"_

As Molly finished the lullaby, Sherlock bent down low over the basket. With feather light fingers, he caressed his daughter's hair, and with feather light lips he kissed her between the eyes. The baby didn't wake up; she yawned and gave a little smile in her sleep.

His heart full, Sherlock turned to Molly, who now held out her arms to him. He embraced her and kissed her with all of his heart. Once finishing a case had been a depressing thing; now it was an uplifting one.

And Sherlock Holmes, Molly Holmes, and Alethea Holmes would never find anything bad about that in all their lives.

* * *

 **A/N:** _"Hushabye Mountain" is a beautiful lullaby written by the Sherman Brothers for the movie 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.' Though the original Dick Van Dyke version is what I still listen to, I recommend looking on Youtube for the cover by Jodie Smith - I imagine that's what Molly sounds like singing the lullaby to baby Alethea._

 _Please read and review!_


End file.
